


Wonderland

by ddagent



Category: Holby City
Genre: Berena Secret Santa, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Family, Meet-Cute, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Holby Christmas market goes through a lot of changes in seventeen years. As do the two women who meet there, first in 2001, then in 2011, and finally in 2018. My gift for 'Berena Secret Santa'.





	1. 2001

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Holby City or any of its characters, or its settings - all belongs to the folks at the BBC. 
> 
> Well, my (hopefully) lucky giftee was dryandsweet, and their prompt was 'meet cute at the Christmas market'. I really hope you enjoy this story, and happy holidays!

_22 nd December, 2001_

Holby's _Winter Wonderland_ left a great deal to be desired. Serena had visited similar markets in France, in Belgium, and Holby's lacked both character and charm. The stalls were small in number; their wares tacky and overpriced. Opportunities for food were limited to a single cart selling roasted chestnuts and slim, American style hotdogs. No German beer, no mulled wine: just a van selling tea and coffee in Styrofoam cups. Even the snow was fake: pads of cotton wool stapled to shed roofs. The only authentic experience at Holby's Christmas market was the winter chill. Serena wrapped her coat tightly around herself as she, and Elinor, navigated _Winter Wonderland._ Ellie had seen the advert in the paper yesterday morning, and had begged and _begged_ her mother for them to go.

It had not taken much for Serena to relent. After all, this was to be Ellie's last _perfect_ Christmas.

"Mummy, Mummy." Elinor tugged on the sleeve of her coat. "Can we go see Santa?"

A small hand pointed at the half painted sign directing patrons towards _Santa's Grotto._ Judging from the rest of the establishment, 'Santa' would be a pot-bellied part-time employee in a discoloured suit and threadbare beard. Probably with nicotine stained teeth and a penchant for scotch. But if her daughter wanted to meet Santa, Serena would not deny her. "Of course, darling. Oh, hang on—"

Something was ringing. Her pager? _No, the hospital knows I'm in another county right now._ Ah, it was her new mobile phone. Awful thing. Good for nothing more than a few games and accidentally being sent her husband's illicit text messages. _I'd wondered why you'd been so excited to get a phone. Now I know._ The harsh electronic ring grated on Serena's last nerve, but not nearly as much as Edward's name flashing up on the small display. _What now?_

"Just be a minute, darling, it's Daddy." Ellie immediately brightened at the mention of her father. _Such a Daddy's girl._ Serena put that constant note of irritation back in its box and pressed the button with the green phone. "Edward, I'm still at _Winter Wonderland_ with Ellie."

" _Still?_ "

"Yes, there are lots of things to do and see. Ellie's having a _wonderful_ time!" _Like you care._ Edward had barely agreed to spend this last Christmas with them all at her mother's house in Holby. He would have been quite happy to enjoy Christmas Eve in bed with an agency nurse, and Christmas Day with a bottle of whiskey. Serena had a sudden sinking feeling he was calling to say he intended to do just that. "What's wrong, _darling_?"

" _No need to take that tone. I just wanted to talk about Christmas Eve. Listen, me and some of the lads—"_

"Oh _no,_ don't you _dare._ " Serena turned away from her daughter, not wanting Ellie to witness the irritation flash across her face, or hear the bitterness in her tone. "We _agreed._ This is for Ellie, remember?"

 _Ellie._ Their beautiful daughter. The only thing they'd ever done right. Ellie. Who was currently tugging so hard at Serena's free arm that it might come out of her socket. " _Mummy._ I want to go see Santa!"

"In a minute, darling!" Serena reached around her neck for the familiar pendant, running her fingertips across the cool metal. "Edward, it's just _three_ days _._ You come up on Christmas Eve; you can leave before lunch on Boxing Day. I just want her to have this year. Don't you care at all?"

A derisive snort crackled on the other end of the line. " _Of course I care. I'm not the one who wants to break up our family, Serena. You were the one who—"_

"—no, _you_ were the one who couldn't keep his scrubs on. I'm just the one who decided that that was a deal breaker." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm not going to have this argument in the middle of a Christmas market, Edward. I'll call you when I get back to Mum's; we can talk Christmas Eve then. Goodbye."

Serena ended the call. She was surprised Elinor hadn't clamoured to say _goodbye_ to Daddy like she always did, like she rarely did with Serena. _Probably desperate to see Santa._ Slipping her phone back into her pocket, Serena turned to her daughter so they could – finally – head to Santa's Grotto. But Elinor wasn't there. No pink coat, no long ponytail of dark hair. Serena blinked. She turned this way, and that, trying to find her daughter in the growing crowd of people. _Nothing._

"Ellie? _Elinor?_ " Serena's voice tapered off. A few heads turned her way. _Calm down, she can't have got far._

Serena strode into the crowd, trying to catch sight of a familiar head, or that _wretched_ coat Edward just _had_ to buy her. There were plenty of children, but no Ellie. Blood pounded in her ears. The dizzying bulbs of the fairy lights made her vision blur; the sounds of the market all faded away in favour of the heavy beat of her heart. _Think about it logically. Be a surgeon right now, not a mother. What is the most logical answer?_ Serena caught sight of another sign to Santa's Grotto. Ellie wanted to meet Santa and couldn't wait for her mother. _That's it._

Quickening her pace, Serena brushed past parents and children as she raced towards the grotto. The winter night was creeping in; the sky turning black and the wind to ice. Serena tried not to entertain visions of what would happen if her daughter was _not_ visiting Santa and his elves. But they came anyway. Ellie lying dead in a ditch somewhere; knocked down by a passing car. Abducted by some monster. Found by Edward, his gloating face judging her as both woman and mother.

Serena reached Santa's grotto. And there, standing at the end of the queue, was Elinor. "Ellie!"

She pushed forward. Ellie was there, unharmed. Not a hair out of place, not a smear of dirt on her coat. Beside her, kneeling on the cold pavement, was a woman around Serena's own age. Two children with similar features hovered nearby. The woman smiled as Serena approached, standing up and brushing her knees clear of gravel and dirt. "I take it this one belongs to you?"

"She does, thank you." Serena wrapped both arms around her daughter, pressing her fingertips into the blades of her shoulders. _She's okay, she's okay._ Serena closed her eyes, savouring the end of her panic. When she opened them, the blonde woman stared, satisfied. Serena mouthed _thank you_ once more, before the woman and her children left them to their reunion.

"Mummy! What took you so long?" Elinor huffed, completely oblivious to the panic she had caused. "Can I see Santa now?"  

 _Santa doesn't see naughty girls who run away from Mummy. I've told you time and time again not to run off, Ellie. Why don't you ever listen?_ Serena was more than prepared to tell her daughter off in the middle of Holby's Christmas market. But the words died in her throat. She didn't want Ellie to remember this year as the year her mother yelled at her in front of Santa. She wanted Ellie to remember her grandmother's cooking, and a roomful of presents, and two parents that loved each other (well…) and, more importantly, loved her most of all.

"Come on."

Serena grasped Ellie's hand and, together, they waited in line behind the blonde woman and her two children. As the line moved slowly, she and the stranger shared a knowing smile above their children's heads. Ellie was impatiently stepping out of line to get a glimpse of Santa. The stranger's son — probably nine, ten at most — looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. He was consumed by his Gameboy, unable to feign any interest in the magic of Christmas. At least his sister, a mirror image of her mother and around the same age as Ellie, seemed excited.

They all moved forward. The blonde woman smiled down at her daughter. "What are you going to ask for, Lottie?"

"A horse!" The mother laughed, squeezing her daughter's hand. "What about you, Cam? Cam?"

"I'm not going up there."

"Oh come _on._ It's just a little bit of fun."

The son shrugged away from his mother's attempts to touch him. "There's no point. I won't get what I want anyway."

"Maybe you will? What do you want for Christmas?"

The boy glanced sideways at his sister, currently riveted by a Sixth Former dressed in green tights and a poorly stitched tunic. "I heard you and Dad the other night. It doesn't matter what I ask for. _You're still going._ "

The woman's face fell. All colour drained, and her head snapped forward to face the front. Her son buried himself in his game. Her daughter remained completely unaware. Serena watched the family approach the front of the line. The son, as expected, went off in a huff. The daughter jumped on Santa's knee and whispered in his ear. Serena recognised the smile the mother wore. Pained, plastered on. Hiding the cracks of what was to come by taking her kids to a Christmas market. _Anything to make that perfect Christmas._

The daughter – Lottie – jumped off Santa's lap and suddenly it was Elinor's turn. Ellie wanted a new Barbie doll and a brand new bicycle and her friend Polly had a television in her room and Ellie wanted one _just like that_. All those things had been bought, wrapped, and would be waiting for her under the tree come Christmas morning. Serena would open the gifts she had bought herself – as gifts to her from Edward – and slowly drink the day away.

Serena wasn't sure what she was dreading more: Christmas Day, or the days after. At least there was someone else in the world who knew what that felt like.

The blonde woman was standing just to the side of Santa's Grotto. Lottie was talking animatedly to her brother, who was barely paying attention. Their mother looked like she could use a drink. _Shame about the lack of wine._ Serena smiled nonetheless, and sidled over. "Fancy a coffee? As a thank you, for not letting Ellie wander off."

For a moment, the woman looked as if she would turn down Serena's polite offer. But in the end she offered a brisk smile, and a nod. "Sure."

The refreshment van was only a short walk from Santa's Grotto. The coffee was weak, the milk suspect, but Serena bought two Styrofoam cups and brought them over to the wooden benches nearby. Cameron was still attached to his Gameboy. The girls were making friends with the donkey masquerading as a reindeer. Serena passed the woman her cup.

"Here. I'm Serena, by the way."

"Bernie."

Serena smiled. She had a name for her saviour, and it suited her well. "Well, thank you, _Bernie,_ for your help earlier. I really appreciate it."

"Well, you're welcome. But you don't need to keep thanking me. Cam's a runner, too; I've got into the habit of keeping an eye on wandering children."

"I see." Wrapping both hands around the Styrofoam, Serena felt the need to open up, to explain. Couldn't abide the idea of Bernie thinking Serena was a poor excuse for a parent. "I don't make a habit of it, you know. She just wanted to see Santa and my husband was on the phone… _ex-husband_. We're getting a divorce."

" _Ah._ "

Serena stared at Ellie; her tiny hand patting the head of the fake reindeer. "We're spending Christmas at my mother's because we're moving out of the house. He's supposed to come down on Christmas Eve but I don't think he will. Ellie…doesn't know."

"You wanted one last family Christmas. A _perfect_ family Christmas." Bernie stared wistfully at her children. "I can understand that."

"Divorce?"

"Deployment." Bernie took a sip of her coffee, and made a face. She put it to one side "I'm an army medic; I'm heading over to Germany as of the first. My husband and I wanted one last perfect Christmas. Full stockings, huge turkey. We were supposed to bring them to this together, but he got called into work. I suppose it's something the kids should get used to. One parent at a time."

Both stared at their children; the youngest oblivious to how the new year would define their families. Serena sighed, and drank her coffee. Weak, sour, and so hot it burnt her tongue. But it was a preferable alternative to talking about the upcoming festivities. Then, Serena recalled something Bernie had said. Something else they had in common.

"So, army medic. Are you a surgeon?"

Bernie nodded, her face brightening for the first time since seeing her daughter on Santa's lap. "Yes, I am. I specialise in trauma…guess it goes along with the territory. I don't know how much you know about—"

"—oh, you'd be surprised."  Serena wore a smug smile. "I'm actually a surgeon myself. Currently working in an ED in London right now. _Although_ , after the divor—"

"—we don't have to talk about that." Bernie bunched closer to Serena on the bench. They shared a warm, sympathetic smile. Neither wanted to talk about divorce, or deployment, when they had so many other, interesting topics on hand. "So, which hospital in London?"

They talked about medicine for quite some time. The contacts they had in common; the techniques they preferred – and despaired of. Serena talked at length about the difficulties of being a woman, and a mother, and a surgeon. And Bernie got it. She understood, she commiserated, she _related._ Between discussing vein graft techniques and the latest failed atriocaval shunt, Elinor came over to sit by her mother. She fell asleep soon after. Cam and Lottie sat quietly; Lottie watching her brother play. It wasn't until Serena herself stifled a yawn that she realised it was time to go home.

"I think we'd better make a move," Serena said, looking down at her daughter's face buried in the crook of her arm. "I hate to wake her; she'll be miserable on the car ride home."

"No need; I can carry her back for you."

Serena's first instinct was to bristle at the offer. _I can carry my daughter, thank you. I don't need some big, macho army medic._ But, staring at Bernie's soft smile, Serena realised she just wanted to help. Not undermine, not challenge. Just help. Serena reached out and touched Bernie's hand. "I would appreciate it, thank you."

"It's not a problem. Come on, you two, we're walking Serena and Ellie back to their car."

Serena waited until Bernie had bundled Ellie into her arms, before standing up herself. Cameron plugged ahead, keeping just enough in sight but far away from his mother and sister. Lottie took Serena's hand as they made their way towards the exit. For a brief moment, Serena entertained the fantasy that they were two friends who had taken their children out for the day. It was a nice daydream; Serena was rather lacking in female companionship, and she'd enjoyed Bernie's company. _Shame neither of them were planning to stay in Holby._

"Well, I hope things go alright," Bernie said softly, so as not to disturb the sleeping Ellie in her arms. "For what it's worth, I think you're better off without him."

  
"Couldn't agree more. And I hope you all have a lovely Christmas too.  As best you can."

They reached the exit. Not long now and they'd both be in their cars, heading home for their picture perfect, painful family Christmas. But, just as they reached the turnstiles, Lottie tugged on Serena's hand. She pointed at the sprigs of mistletoe that had been fixed on a beam of wood above them.

"What flower is that?"

"It's mistletoe," Serena explained. Lottie stared at her blankly. "At Christmas time, people hang mistletoe and then, when you're underneath it, you have to _kiss._ "

Lottie wrinkled her nose. She was a bit too young to think about kissing. Serena was grateful she still had a few years before Elinor would be, too. But Lottie had more questions. "Is it just boys and girls that kiss?"

Serena didn't know what to say. She knew what she _wanted_ to say, but didn't want to overstep with someone else's child. Thankfully, Bernie displayed more open traits than Serena was accustomed to in her dealings with the armed forces. "It doesn't have to be, Lottie. Boys can kiss. Um, uh, _girls_ can kiss… _other_ girls, too. If they want." 

"Okay. Are you two going to kiss?"

Serena chuckled. "I don't see why not." They _were_ standing right underneath it. And it would be nice to get _one_ kiss under the mistletoe this year. She raised an eyebrow in Bernie's direction. "It _is_ tradition."

Bernie just stood, flustered. Kissing a near stranger at the exit to a poorly designed Christmas market was perhaps not how she had envisioned her day ending. But, after a beat, she nodded. "Go on then."

Under the mistletoe, the two leaned in for a kiss. Just a quick peck on the lips, enough to satisfy tradition and a precocious six year old. Bernie's lips were chapped, tasting of coffee. The smell of tobacco clung to the collar of her coat. When Serena pulled away, there was a pink blush adorning Bernie's cheeks that Serena chalked up to the cold. _Not a bad way to end the day. Best kiss I've had in quite some time._

"Okay." Bernie took a step closer to the turnstiles, adjusting her grip on Ellie. "We probably should—"

"—of course."

They made their way to Serena's car, Bernie helping slide Ellie into her booster seat. There was no handshake, no hug, no exchange of numbers or contact information. They were just two strangers who had provided an ear on a cold December night. Maybe their paths would cross again someday.

Serena hoped so. 


	2. 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two is up! I hope you enjoy! :) Huge thank you to Igerna for looking over both this part, and the previous one. And for making me get rid of any and all references to apple cider!

_23 rd December, 2011_

"Ellie, when you get this, can you _please_ call me back? _Thank you._ "

Sighing, Serena ended her call to her daughter's voicemail _,_ and slipped her phone back into her pocket. That was the fourth call she had made that afternoon, each with no response. Tugging the sides of her wool coat close, Serena stood on the tips of her toes to see above the massing crowd. Ironic, really, that the last time they had visited Holby's Christmas market, Elinor had run off without telling her. Of course, Ellie was sixteen now, not six. There was no mad panic, just annoyance at her daughter's lack of communication. _Probably with her friends. Probably forgot that they were supposed to spend this afternoon together._ Serena had a sinking feeling that she would be spending her afternoon alone.

At least there was plenty to keep her occupied at Holby's _Winter Wonderland._ It had expanded rapidly in the last ten years: a host of stalls selling homemade decorations and artwork; a plethora of chocolate and fudge. The dodgy tea van was gone, replaced by a tent selling bratwurst and German beer, and another with mulled wine. Even Santa's Grotto seemed much improved: there was a sack of presents ready to be handed out to each child, and Santa's belly even shook like a bowl full of jelly. With a line that long, Serena was suddenly glad that Ellie was past the age of believing in Father Christmas.

Although not, however, above the age of worrying her. Serena got her phone out once more and searched for Ellie in her contacts. It actually rang this time; her daughter picking up on the sixth ring. "Ellie, darling, where are you?"

_"I'm with Gabby and Michelle. I thought I said."_

Serena took in a deep breath. "You said you were going to say hello. I didn't think you meant you would be spending the whole afternoon with them."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Serena knew the excuses and persuasive arguments would soon be coming. _Just like her father._ It scared her, sometimes, to see so much of Edward in their daughter. He, too, had recently made his excuses. This year would be another Christmas where he wouldn't see Ellie; just send her lavish gifts where he expected the price tag to make up for personal contact. Not that Serena could say much. She had spent the last six months in the US on an exciting sabbatical, with Ellie splitting her time between Boston and St Winifred's. This Christmas was her opportunity to make up for her absence. Starting by an exciting visit to _Winter Wonderland._ Or so she'd planned.  

" _So it's okay, Mum? If I spend time with my friends?"_

Serena pinned a thin smile upon her face, hoping it would translate across the call. "Of course, darling. Did you want me to wait and give you a lift home?"

" _It's fine, Mum; Gabby's Dad can give us a lift back. I've got to go; love you, bye!"_

And, just like that, the call ended. "Well, I guess it's just me, myself, and I this afternoon."  

Putting her phone back into her bag (she wouldn't need it again), Serena decided to investigate the Christmas market. It was a nicer option than going back to her new home and the mountains of boxes, or visiting her mother and the landfills of guilt and unfilled expectations. Serena filtered along the stalls, taking a leisurely walk in the direction of the mulled wine tent. She debated a bauble with _Holby 2011_ decorated in glitter, a memento of their first Christmas living here. She put it back, not really feeling the festive cheer.

The next stall was for _Help for Heroes_. Two volunteers in Santa hats shook buckets hoping for donations. Serena slipped five pounds into the first bucket. She would have gone on her way, had she not been jostled by an eager mother and her two children desperate to head to Santa's Grotto. Serena then got a good look at the second volunteer. Blonde hair pinned back; thin lips and nose. A face Serena would probably have forgotten had that Christmas not been burned into her memory.

"Bernie?"

The blonde looked up. Her brow furrowed, no doubt trying to place the stranger who knew her name. Eventually, with _Last Christmas_ blaring across the loud speakers, it clicked. "Serena, right? The awful coffee."

Serena nodded, glad that Bernie remembered her for her poor taste in beverages, and not losing her daughter at a Christmas market. "It's wonderful to see you. How are you?" 

"Good. I just got back. Spending Christmas with the husband and his family. How about yourself?"

"Fine, thanks. We actually moved house a few days ago; been offered a job here in Holby. It's–uh–it's great to see you."

 _You said that already, Campbell._ But Serena didn't know what else to say. What could one say to a woman she'd only known for a brief afternoon? A woman she knew so little about, and yet so much? She couldn't very well ask _has Cameron forgiven you for leaving_ in the middle of a crowded market. Nor could she divulge details of her divorce when they were essentially just two strangers standing over a charity bucket. The polite thing – the _correct_ thing – would be to stick another fiver in Bernie's bucket and move on to the mulled wine. Let that afternoon be what it was: two strangers passing in the night.

But, after being abandoned by Elinor, she really could use the company. Nothing sadder than a forty-six year old woman drinking alone at a Christmas market. "You know, I'd love to catch up. How about, once you've finished here, I buy you a drink? A proper drink this time, I promise."

Bernie faltered, no doubt trying to think of a polite way to let Serena down gently. "I'd love to, I really would, but unfortunately I've got to fit in some last minute Christmas shopping."

 _Should have just stuck with the fiver._ "Of course, of course. Never mind. Well, it was lovely to see you."

Bernie smiled. "You too. Send my regards to…Ellie, right?"

"Yes, yes, Ellie. She's currently off gallivanting with her friends. They reach an age, don't they, when they'd rather spend time with them and not at _all_ with you."

Serena realised she was coming across as bitter. She didn't want Bernie's lasting memory of her to be a woman who kept unloading on near strangers. But Bernie's face had softened. There was a twitch in the corner of her mouth, as if she was desperately trying to keep something to herself. She took the Santa hat from her head, leaving a few strands of blonde static behind.

" _Actually,_ I'd appreciate the company, if you don't mind coming round with me shopping." Bernie stuck her free hand in the pocket of her jeans, her body closing herself off as if afraid of rejection. "We could get a drink after, if you'd like."

" _Yes,_ yes I would."

Serena hovered near the _Help for Heroes_ stall for a few more minutes, until Bernie's volunteer shift was complete. She handed her bucket over to another fellow soldier, before wrapping a long scarf around her neck. After grabbing her bag, the two of them headed into the throng of the Christmas market. It was certainly busier than their last visit: back then, few had ventured out into the blistering cold, and those who had had not stayed long. But fairy lights lit their path now, and the dulcet tones of Mel Tormé piped through the speakers.

"So," Serena began as they stopped at a stall selling hand knitted scarves and hats. "Do you have many presents to get?"

"Just a few. Marcus, the kids. He's bought most of them, all the ones for the extended family, but I wanted something from me. Haven't really had the chance to buy anything since I've come home."

"Been back long?"

Bernie shook her head. "Four days. I'm home for the New Year, and then I'm redeployed to Afghanistan. This is the first Christmas I've been home in…" She pushed out a breath, struggling to think. "I can't remember. Hence the presents. I'm trying to make this another _amazing_ Christmas."

A feeling Serena knew all too well. It reminded her of their last meeting, and how both had tried to create the elusive perfect Christmas. "How was your last one, by the way?"

"Could have been better. Cameron wouldn't say a word on Christmas Day, but ended up telling his cousins, who then told Lottie. That made for a _very_ tearful Boxing Day." Bernie stopped at a stand offering a vast selection of chocolates, marshmallows, and assorted candies. "In the end, I don't think they remembered the stockings or the presents or the food. Just the two bags packed by the door on New Year's Day."   

"I'm sorry."

Bernie shrugged. "It's fine, it's all in the past now. And, as upset as they were that Christmas, they've rather got used to the festivities without me. I feel rather underfoot this year. Can't help with the food, presents are already wrapped – not that I'd be any good with that, believe me. I feel rather surplus to requirements."

Serena nudged Bernie's shoulder with her own. "I'm sure that's not true."

Bernie said no more about it. Just bought a tin of decadent treats for her husband and moved on. When they passed the next stall, Bernie asked after her. "So, did your ex turn up for Christmas Eve?"

"Did he hell."

Serena then related the perilous tale of _Christmas 2001._ Edward _had_ turned up on Christmas Eve, but late into the night and absolutely reeking of booze. There was lipstick on his collar, too, and a button missing. He made so much noise getting into her mother's home that Ellie had woken her, adamant that Santa had arrived. After putting her daughter – and her drunken ex – to bed, Serena had naively thought the worst was over. But Edward's Christmas hangover had led him to snap at their daughter. Ellie had taken her new Barbie and gone to cry in the spare room. Her mother had given her a lecture on her life choices, and Adrienne McKinnie had bought _merlot_ for Christmas dinner rather than Shiraz.

"Edward scarpered before breakfast on Boxing Day, and then left me a drunken message on my mother's answerphone on New Year's Eve. And after all that, I still had to deal with a broken-hearted Ellie when I told her about the divorce."

"Is she alright now?" Bernie asked.

Serena scoffed. "Oh _yes,_ Ellie always lands on her feet. Has both of us wrapped around her little finger when it comes to parental guilt. Edward for abandoning us, myself for being a working mother. How are your two, by the way?"    

"Fine. Charlotte's sixteen and studying hard. Cam's gone to medical school in Manchester. They're both…fine." 

After that, family talk gave way to discussions about career, medicine. Bernie talked little of her work in Afghanistan, but did go into great detail about surgical techniques and a conference she'd attended in Newcastle ten months before. She listened with great interest as Serena described her own work, bringing a trial model of the UK healthcare system to a clinic in Boston. So many of her fellow surgeons glazed over when she talked about business; Serena was thrilled to meet someone who, at the very least, understood the basic maxims of conversation.

As the night drew in and the crowd of young families thinned, Bernie managed to pick up her last few Christmas presents. Whilst she paid for a scarf for Lottie, Serena picked up a little trinket of her own. A small wooden Christmas decoration of Holby's skyline. Not aesthetically pleasing, but she hoped the sentiment would be.

When Bernie returned, Serena pressed the small paper bag into her hands. "Here. Merry Christmas."

"I–I– _Serena,_ you shouldn't have."

"It's nothing special. Just a little thing to remember home by when you go back."

Bernie beamed at the decoration, running her thumb over the painted image of Holby City hospital. "Thank you, it's wonderful. But I haven't got anything for you."

Serena interlocked her arm with Bernie's and spun her around to face the tent just ahead. "You can buy the first round. We've _finally_ arrived at the wine."

Laughing, the two headed for their last stop of the evening. It was a big step up from the poor coffee and cold benches of ten years ago. There were space heaters, soft lighting, and the heady smell of alcohol in the air. Serena took up a seat in the corner of the tent and removed her hat and gloves. Bernie soon returned with two large glasses of mulled wine; a cinnamon stick and orange wedge added for decoration. She slid Serena's glass across to her, before removing her own scarf. It had been a long few months – and the year was not yet over. Both were glad of a momentary reprieve, and a welcome sip of wine.

"Now _that's_ the stuff," Serena said, the wine warming her from the inside out.

Bernie nodded appreciatively. "Normally a whiskey drinker, but this…" She wet her lips. "I might have to get another."

"No rush to get home?"

Bernie paused, her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth as she posed her response. "It's… _awkward._ We're staying with his mother, and I've been away. I've been away a lot."

"Funny. I thought you being away so much meant you'd be tearing each other's clothes off at the first opportunity."

"No, no, we've never been like that." Bernie sounded almost wistful, as if she longed for the idea of sweaty, _unbridled_ passion.

Serena smiled softly across the table at Bernie, and tried not to pass judgement on her relationship with Marcus. Marriages were built on many different attributes. Not everyone shared her love for sex. But there was something in the way Bernie talked that made Serena wonder. She drained half her glass before she asked her next question, hoping it wasn't crossing a line. "Are things alright between you and Marcus?"

" _Yes._ We're fine." _Line crossed._ Bernie toyed with the cinnamon stick soaking in her wine. "What about you? How are things on the romance front post-divorce? Edward hasn't tried to get back into your good graces, has he?"

"Not once the papers were signed. No, no, he's since remarried." Serena finished her mulled wine as she recalled the day Ellie had announced that Edward was marrying again. Even after the divorce, Edward still found ways to embarrass her, hurt her. Elinor would have a stepmother before Serena had even moved out of her rebound phase. "Another?"

Bernie finished her own glass, and smiled. "Go on then."

With neither of them eager to return home, they once again spent well over an hour setting the world to rights. They made it through glasses two and three as Serena described her ex-husband's second wedding in _painstaking_ detail; a vast contrast from her own registry office elopement. Bernie, in turn, described her church service (in Holby, of all places) and the awkward wedding night where her new mother-in-law was in the hotel room underneath them. Serena didn't have to be an obstetrician to work out the connection between Cameron's age and their wedding anniversary, but Bernie seemed happy enough. _Especially_ when Serena offered stories of her recent dating woes.

"Oh it was _awful._ As a surgeon – and a woman – I like someone with _clean_ hands." She reached across for Bernie's, examining the deft fingers and well-kept nails. " _These._ These are perfect hands."

The hue of Bernie's cheeks darkened. She'd slowly turned pink as the evening had progressed; the weather was still cold, and the wine _incredibly_ potent. Looking across the table at her new friend, Serena was _baffled_ as to why her husband wasn't taking her on every available surface. Bernie was an _incredibly_ beautiful woman. Those soft lips. Dark eyes that missed nothing. Those _legs…_ several of the patrons of the Christmas market had turned to stare at Bernie Wolfe. And who could blame them? _Utterly_ gorgeous, especially for a woman in her mid-forties.

Perhaps it was just men in general. Marcus didn't seem interested, and very few of Serena's own prospects did, either. "Edward was a liar, a cheat, and a _drunk._ "

"Can't throw stones on that one," Bernie interjected, sniggering at the set of glasses that surrounded the pair of them. "I think we're both a few sheets to the wind."

" _Clearly_ the cinnamon stick."

"And the orange wedge!"

Bernie's smile seemed brighter than all the fairy lights in this tent and the _Winter Wonderland_ beyond. In their brief acquaintance, Serena had not seen much of her smile. It was always forced; pinned on. But the way she smiled now was genuine. It gave her warmth (that was in no way connected to the wine) that Bernie felt comfortable and happy with Serena herself. It was a feeling that was entirely reciprocated.

" _Anyway,_ Edward was a liar, a cheat, and a drunk, but at least he was a good shag."  Serena polished off glass number four. "And reliable when sex was involved. I'd _originally_ planned to spend this evening – after the Christmas market – with an old _friend_ from my house officer days. Spent over fifty pounds on underwear, and he texts me this morning to say he just doesn’t _feel_ like it."

"Clearly barking. You're… _beyond_ lovely, Serena." Bernie teased the rim of her glass with her finger, before her face fell into a frown. "What kind of underwear did you spend fifty quid on?"

Serena offered Bernie a sultry look across the table. "Really, _really_ expensive ones. Lace and bows and…" She hiccupped. "Detachable cups. Here." Leaning across the table, Serena pulled down the front of her blouse so Bernie could get a good look at what fifty pounds could buy. Well, not _quite_ fifty pounds. She didn't plan on showing Bernie her knickers, after all.

Bernie sat in her chair, utterly speechless. Serena bobbed her head. "I know. They look _bloody_ good on."

"I'll say."

Before Serena could go into any more detail, Bernie's phone vibrated. She picked it up, nose wrinkling at the message on screen. "It's the husband, asking where I am. Should probably call for a taxi home. Can't put it off forever."

"Me either." Together they stood up; pulled on discarded coats and scarves. As Bernie zipped up her jacket, Serena reached out and brushed Bernie's hand with hers. "I'm really glad Elinor ditched me today. So, let's not leave it another ten years, hmm?

"Deal."

The walk to _Winter Wonderland's_ exit was sobering. Ice had started to build up on the ground; Serena's breath was as clear as the smoke from Bernie's cigarette (" _don't tell Marcus_ "). The haze of the mulled wine began to clear and Serena was faced, yet again, with the prospect of a perfect Christmas she would never likely live up to. At least this was another year she had found a kindred spirit. Hopefully, if they didn't see each other in the meantime, they would meet at next year's Christmas market. Once is an accident, twice is coincidence, three times is a tradition.

Serena would like some new traditions.

With the turnstiles in sight, Bernie paused to put out her cigarette and retrieve a stick of gum. "Trying to prevent an argument for when I get home."

"Clever." Serena looked around at the last vestiges of the market, and at the fairy lights above them. _And the mistletoe._ She cackled. "You're in trouble now, Ms Wolfe. _Mistletoe."_

Bernie, gum halfway to her mouth, dropped her hand and stared at the white buds. "You're going to get sick of kissing me."

" _Hardly._ I loved our first kiss. Was just nice to be kissed after the year I'd had." Serena paused; suddenly feeling more exposed than when she'd showed Bernie her underwear in the mulled wine tent. "So, for tradition?"

"For tradition."

Serena pitched forward, placing both hands upon Bernie's shoulders. She planted her lips on Bernie's; a firm kiss to satisfy the festive spirits. Her lips were stained red with wine; a hint of tobacco and orange on her tongue. Bernie Wolfe tasted of Christmas and New Year's Eve and Serena placed a second kiss upon her top lip. A third to her bottom. Then Serena closed her eyes.

The hands she had so admired earlier now held Serena close. Bernie's palm slid against the length of her neck, her thumb grazing the underside of Serena's jaw. The other buried itself in the short, dark strands of her hair; nails scratching at her scalp. They shared a fourth, a fifth kiss until their lips never left each other. Serena wanted more of that taste, wanted more of that feeling. No whiskers scratching her skin; just soft lips pressed to hers again and again. A respectful flicker of tongue. Silky blonde tresses tangled in her fingers. 

And a moan that cut through the still Christmas night.

Serena stumbled backwards, fingers immediately reaching up to her mouth. She hadn't anticipated _that._ She was about to make a joke about the alcohol content in the mulled wine, when she looked at Bernie. Her face was as white as fresh snow; her eyes wide and panicked. She looked right through Serena; couldn't see her. Said nothing as she took two steps back and immediately took off for the exit.

"Bernie, wait!"

But she didn't. Serena watched as the figure of Bernie Wolfe faded into the shadows and she was, once again, left alone. Above her, the lights went out. Serena stood in the dark; unmoving, unsure. The surprise of their kiss had now given way to abject discomfort. She'd just kissed another man's _wife._ And _liked_ it. Setting aside the moral implications, she'd just shared her first kiss with another woman. And would happily do so again.

Christmas was a time for reflection. And Serena Campbell had a _lot_ to think about.


	3. 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Holby City or any of its characters, or its settings - all belongs to the folks at the BBC.
> 
> Apologies for this arriving a couple of days late. A myriad of things have kept me super busy this week, but I've finally finished this story! A huge, huge thank you to Igerna who not only gave me her original notes, but did a last minute read through when I was pulling my hair out screaming, "DOES THIS MAKE SENSE?" She assures me that it does, so blame her if it doesn't. *wink* I hope you enjoy!

_22 nd December 2018_

The Campbell-Haynes clan finally reached the front of the queue to enter _Winter Wonderland._ Serena had bought the tickets six weeks before (at Jason's insistence), yet it had still taken them twenty-five minutes to reach the snow covered entrance. A wait, however, which was surmountable compared to those paying on the door. Serena eagerly pressed five tickets into the gate attendant's hand; a young man in an elf's hat and pointed ears. She was looking forward to a festive afternoon spent with Jason and his new family, and a mildly interested Elinor.

However, Serena's good mood quickly evaporated. "You've got one extra ticket," the Elf said, handing one back to her. "Children under five get in free. No refunds, though."

"Ah. Oh-okay."   

"Is that Amelia's ticket? Auntie Serena?" Jason pressed, until Serena gave a firm nod. "She should be here. It's Guinevere's first Christmas."

"I know, Jason." _But she's not._ "Come along, then, let's go see this Christmas market!"

Elinor unglued her eyes from her phone long enough to give her mother a look. A _you're not fooling anyone_ look. Not that Ellie was particularly distraught at Amelia's departure; she had never cared for the surgeon or her relationship with Serena. It had been two Christmases now, since Serena had introduced Amelia as her partner over presents and bucks fizz. Last Christmas they had spent the holiday in Chicago; looking to build a future together. Now Amelia was there alone, and Serena was here. With a spare ticket for _Winter Wonderland,_ and several presents under the tree she would never give.

 _Still,_ she had her family. That's what she'd wanted, after all. 

The five of them – including Guinevere in her buggy – pushed on into _Winter Wonderland._ It had expanded dramatically over the last seven years; a small ice rink had been set up, and there was a _Winter Walk_ where LED icicles hung from tree branches. There were more food stalls; _two_ mulled wine stands. Even artisanal hot chocolate. Santa's Grotto loomed large at the back of the market; now you could take family photographs with Santa, as well as telling him what you wanted for Christmas.

Their first stop was, indeed, at the Grotto: a meet and greet with Father Christmas himself. Serena was dubious about whether Guinevere would enjoy it; she was barely six months old. But she had long since learnt her opinion would be _asked_ for, and that, until then, she should just let the new parents get on with it. They seemed quite happy pushing Guinevere along the narrow pathways, identifying and discussing different Christmas traditions. Somehow, _Winter Wonderland_ had become one for her. During moments of transition, she always found herself here.

And always with Bernie Wolfe.

For the first time in days, Serena wasn't occupied with thoughts of Amelia. No, she was reliving memories of another blonde surgeon. Bernie in the line to meet Santa. Laughter in the mulled wine tent. Serena stood, and took a moment, beside the _Help for Heroes_ stand. There was a flash of blonde hair, and Serena's stomach leapt into her chest. But it wasn't her. Just another soldier collecting donations for an important cause. Serena put ten pounds in her bucket.

"Auntie Serena, are you coming?"

"Yes, Jason."

Offering the blonde soldier a brief smile, Serena re-joined her family as they continued their journey to Santa's Grotto. Her heart sank, however, when she saw the line. It snaked far beyond the boundaries of the North Pole, coming to a grim stop beside a confectionary stand selling reindeer shaped cookies. A helpful elf out front held up a sign indicating how long it would be to see Santa. Serena nearly swore.

"We should line up now; I doubt it'll improve as the day goes on," Greta said.

Jason, however, wasn't convinced. "It's such an ineffectual use of our day, though. Auntie Serena, would you be happy to wait with Guinevere whilst Greta and I pick up a few last minute presents?"

Her nephew had never done anything last minute, but Serena imagined this sudden rush to shop had something to do with a hushed conversation Jason had had with Ellie earlier that day. Serena imagined little could be worse than her birthday present from him – an electronic counter telling her how many days she had been alive – but she didn't really want to take that risk come Christmas morning. "That's fine; Ellie and I will hold the line."

" _Actually_ —" _Oh, no, Ellie, don't do this._ "Gabby's over by the artisanal hot chocolate; wants a quick catch up. That's alright, isn't it, Mum?"

There was no point in arguing. Ellie was only half-listening, anyway. "That's fine. But be back soon, all of you, or it'll be coal in your stockings!"

Serena, and a sleepy Guinevere, waved goodbye to the rest of their family, leaving just the two of them waiting in line. Guinevere was an adorable child, but hardly a gifted conversationalist. Serena retreated into her phone, getting a few messages from the ward (Raf was in theatre; Morven in charge of the annual carol competition) and _nothing_ from Amelia. Not a text, not a WhatsApp, not even a like on the Instagram account Ellie had set up for her to keep in touch during her brief sabbatical. _Probably in theatre herself,_ Serena thought. _Or with someone new. Someone who isn't weighed down by a daughter, a nephew, and a grand-niece._

She tucked her phone back into her pocket; her gaze stretching out into the crowd for a new distraction. A familiar face. A Christmas song. _A two-year-old wandering without mother or father nearby._

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Serena asked the child. Dark, wide eyes stared up at her, and Serena knelt down by Guinevere's buggy to put the child at ease. "Are you lost?" Blonde curls bobbed around chubby cheeks. "Where was the last place you saw Mummy?" The little girl pointed into the throng of the Christmas market. " _Ah._ "

With two children to look after, Serena decided to keep her place in the queue; waiting for either the little girl's parents to find them, or for Jason and Greta to return and look after Guinevere. She was just about to grab a friendly elf and ask them to put a call out for a missing child, when a voice came over the din. _Cassie, Cassie_ could be heard above Mariah Carey screeching out her Christmas classic.

The crowd cleared, and the little girl pointed a finger straight ahead. "Nana!"

A woman darted along the line to Santa's Grotto, quickly scooping the little girl up in her arms. The relief on her face was palpable. Serena remembered that relief; the panic ebbing away. She also remembered, in vivid detail, the face of her saviour. Even seven years on from the last time she'd seen it.

Bernie Wolfe tore herself away from the small child in her arms to thank her Good Samaritan, but simply _stared._ Her face was awash with emotion, although Serena could not decipher her expression. Could not imagine what was on her own features, after being reunited with the woman who had turned her life _entirely_ upside down seven years before. Although, Serena should have expected to see Bernie today of all days. It was their tradition, after all.

The little girl tugged at her grandmother's short blonde hair (shorter than Serena had seen it; brushing the long column of her neck). It seemed to knock Bernie out of her train of thought, and she smiled gratefully at Serena. "Thank you so much for looking after her. Cam was supposed to be watching her, but he got distracted."

"It's not a problem. If I recall, you were owed."

"Yes, I guess I was. Although you did buy me a rather awful cup of coffee to say thank you."

"Don't mention it. Please, _don't,_ that coffee was awful." Serena couldn't stop staring at Bernie, at her granddaughter. They shared the same dark eyes; the same thin nose. _So this is what you've been doing the last seven years. Having beautiful grandchildren._ "So, are you going to introduce me?"

Bernie bounced her granddaughter in her arms; pudgy hands fiddling with the buttons on Bernie's coat. "This is Cassie, she's Charlotte's little girl."

"Oh." Her eyes widened. From what Serena could recall, Charlotte was close in age to her own daughter. She couldn't fathom the idea of Ellie reproducing, not yet. "That's—"

"— _wonderful_ ," Bernie interrupted, her frame tense as if she'd had this conversation many a time before. She only relaxed when Cassie reached out for Serena, and Serena let her play with her necklace. "And it is. _Now._ At first it was— but we both know there's never a perfect time to have a child. Jobs get in the way; marriages implode. It's never perfect."  Serena nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. A happy, healthy child was all that mattered. She had one of those. Bernie saw, and gestured towards the buggy by her hip. "What about you? Is this one yours?"

"It is." Serena grabbed the handles and spun it around so Bernie and Cassie could meet her grand-niece. "This is my nephew's little girl, Guinevere." Bernie raised a single eyebrow. "Don't ask; they insisted."

"Tell me about it." Bernie gestured towards her granddaughter. "Cassiopeia. What happened to regular names, like Lucy and Sarah? They all have weird names these days. Like Hershel, or Sable, or Scalpel."

Serena snorted. "Scalpel? Really?" 

" _Okay,_ maybe not, but I really thought Charlotte would have learned from Berenice."

"I like Berenice." Serena squirmed, realising the connotations far too late. " _I mean,_ it suits you."

Bernie ducked her head, her cheeks turning a rosy hue. Before – _before_ – Serena would have attributed it to the cold. Not anymore. " _Thank you._ "

Both then swallowed, paused; unsure what to say next. Did they continue with pleasant small talk, ignoring the events of seven years ago? Or did they hash it out in the line to meet Santa Claus? Thankfully, they were spared such decisions, as their families chose that moment to arrive. Laden with paper bags, Jason and Greta made their way to Serena and Guinevere. Elinor was a few paces behind them, sourly texting on her phone. Beside Bernie, a young woman lifted Cassie out of Bernie's arms and cradled her close, giving the child a familiar speech about not running off. Serena could barely recognise the six-year-old girl who had asked for a pony. Nor the young man, most likely Bernie's son, bringing up the rear.

"Auntie Serena, who is this?" Jason asked, taking note of the woman and her family standing rather closer to Serena than a queue would usually dictate.

"This is Bernie. She's—" _A friend? The one that got away? The one that made me realise I like women?_

"I'm an old friend of your aunt's," Bernie helpfully supplied. "We actually met at _Winter Wonderland_ about seventeen years ago. Do you remember, Lottie? You and Serena's daughter were best friends for an entire afternoon."

Charlotte paused, glancing towards Elinor as if the sight of her face would jog her memory. Then it clicked. "Oh my god, the donkey dressed as a reindeer!"

"And Santa with his scratchy beard!" Both girls descended into laughter.

Somehow, two families, who had come together seventeen years ago, came together once again. The Wolfe pack joined them in line to meet Santa, despite the grumbles by the families behind them. Elinor and Cameron struck up a conversation, and Charlotte and Jason began exchanging parenting tips. If any of their children noticed that Bernie and Serena did not say a single word to each other, they did not say. Serena busied herself with Guinevere, and Bernie was constantly trying to remove Cassie's hands from her hair. As the line trickled down, Serena caught Bernie's eye. Perhaps this would have been fine had it just been their _one_ meeting; with their children on a cold December afternoon.

But it wasn't just one. It was two. Two meetings, two kisses, and a million thoughts ever since.

Reaching the front of the line was a welcome reprieve. Guinevere was up first and, as Serena expected, promptly burst into tears at the sight of a very large man booming _ho, ho, ho._ No picture of Guinevere and Santa would grace her mantelpiece this year, although Elinor did snap a shot of a teary – but calm – Guinevere pulling the bell on an elf's hat. Cassie handled meeting Santa _much_ better, and a mantle worthy picture was taken of Cassie, her mother, her uncle and grandmother.

With both families having met Santa, Serena assumed that this would be the parting of the ways: Wolfes in one direction, Campbells in the other. But Jason had other ideas. "Auntie Serena, Greta and I are going to take Guinevere to the play area. Apparently, they have a real life reindeer. Charlotte, would you and Cassiopeia like to join us?"

"Absolutely!"

At least that still left Elinor and Cameron. But hushed giggles and stolen looks told Serena that she would be spending the rest of her visit to _Winter Wonderland_ alone. "Mum, Cam and I are going to check out the mulled wine tent. Give you and Bernie some time to catch up!"

" _Wonderful._ " Elinor, to her credit, assumed she was doing a good thing. She didn't know their history, or the last time they'd _caught up._ As far as Elinor was aware, it was a win/win: cute boy, and an early Christmas present for mum. "Have fun, you two."

All too quickly, she and Bernie were left alone. Perhaps they would go their separate ways, or get into an animated conversation about recent trauma techniques. Or, just maybe, they could discuss how they'd gone from two working mothers commiserating over bad coffee, to snogging up a storm in a dark corner.

As if sensing Serena's thoughts, Bernie's eyes met hers. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but fell silent instead. Serena ached to hear what she had to say. But what could she? _I'm happily married to my husband of twenty-seven years._ But Bernie wore no ring on her finger (did she before?) and Marcus was conspicuous, yet again, by his absence. _I'm no longer married, but I'm not interested in you like that._ A fair assumption, although that didn't track with Bernie breaking the land speed record after their kiss. _I haven't been able to stop thinking about you in seven years._

Perhaps that was wishful thinking on her part. Because Serena certainly hadn't stopped thinking about Bernie. She had been at the back of her mind sometimes, but she had always been there. And now Bernie was here. Right in front of her. "The kids won't be too long. We should probably stick together, so we're in the same spot when they come to find us." A flimsy excuse, but Bernie didn't challenge it. "Hot chocolate?"

"Sure." No hesitation, nor polite excuse. "I think I saw a stall back there." Once again, Bernie was unreadable. Did her willingness to spend time together mean she _wanted_ to talk about seven years ago? Or, rather, that she didn't think there was anything to talk about? _Only one way to find out._

Bernie bought the drinks ("As a thank you, for Cassie") and soon both were carrying warm mugs of steaming cocoa, smothered in chocolate truffle shavings, whipped cream, and gold flakes…or, they should do, considering both hot chocolates cost Bernie the equivalent of a half-bottle of decent wine. The seating nearby was full, so they took a detour through the _Winter Walk_ : St James' Green decked out with fairy lights, frosted trees, and carols played low on hidden speakers.

"This is lovely," Serena said as she sipped her hot chocolate. She hadn't realised how cold she was until she felt the warmth drifting through her extremities. "The lights are beautiful, too."

"Agreed."

There were only a few patrons in the park; most were taking advantage of the stalls in the main market, or waiting until nightfall to get a true appreciation of the lights. But Serena was enjoying the walk: it was dark enough for the lights to have an effect, but not dark enough she would end up tripping and losing her hot chocolate. Perhaps it was the company that made it. Bernie's presence had always brightened the darkest of festive moments.

"So," Bernie said as they turned a corner. "Is the whole family coming to yours for Christmas?"

Serena shook her head, hiding her smile behind a mountain of whipped cream. "No, no, Jason is _insisting_ on hosting this year. It's Guinevere's first Christmas, so Elinor and I are staying over at their place so we can watch her open presents Christmas morning. It's rather novel; not having to worry about planning the _perfect_ family Christmas. How about you? You staying with the in-laws?" 

Bernie shook her head. "No in-laws, not anymore. Marcus and I divorced… _four_ years ago, now." Serena's stomach lurched. It jumped again at Bernie's sideways glance, as if she wanted to see how Serena took the news. "Charlotte still lives in Holby, though; wanted to stay close to family after Cassie was born. Cam and I are spending Christmas with them. Marcus and his new wife are skiing in Switzerland."

"Lucky for some."

She shrugged. "Honestly, after spending more than my fair share of Christmases abroad, it'll be nice to put my feet up with a tin of _Celebrations._ It's why I left my job in Nairobi, to spend more time with my family." Bernie paused, face solemn. "I messed up enough with Cam and Charlotte. Didn't want to do the same with Cassie."

"I understand." Bernie smiled softly at Serena. There was always an understanding between them, ever since their first meeting. "I worked so much when Ellie was younger. Now I have the opportunity to spend time with my family, I'm not going to squander it. Even if it means ending a very serious relationship." She looked at Bernie; waiting for a reaction. Her jaw clenched. _Interesting._ "It's fine; we'd been drifting – and arguing – for a while. My ex took a job in Chicago, and couldn't quite understand what was keeping me here. Probably for the best we went our separate ways."

"Absolutely." Bernie took a long drink of her hot chocolate. "Definitely for the best."

Serena was starting to agree.

As the skies grew darker, both of them finished their hot chocolate and discarded their cups in a nearby bin. They exchanged brief small talk: work related updates; a discussion about a paper both of them had recently read in _The Lancet._ St James' Green was not very big, and Serena saw the final turn just up ahead. Soon they would run out of path, the children would find them, and it could be another seven years before they saw each other again. Maybe it would be easier to let Bernie go without discussing that night. Maybe it would lead to turmoil, or upset, or another contemplative Christmas.

But the festive season was about more than reflection; it was about ghosts, too. Serena did not want to spend another year haunted by the ghost of Christmas Past.

On the final turn, Serena reached for Bernie's arm. "I'm sorry, I know we're both trying _very_ hard to pretend seven years ago didn't happen, but I just need to know whether we're going to mention the rather large elephant in the room."

"Serena—"

"—because we didn't get a chance to, back then. We _kissed,_ and you _ran._ And I had to spend Christmas and New Year dealing with the fact that I really, truly, _loved_ kissing you and you–you—"

"What, Serena? I, what?" Bernie stared, as pale and as scared as she'd looked after their kiss seven years ago. "I'm sorry I ran, but what did you expect? I was _married,_ and supposed to be in love with my _husband._ You didn't have to spend Christmas in your husband's home, surrounded by people who loved him more than anything, and wondering why you _didn't._ You didn't spend two tours trying to put _you,_ Serena, in a box because I couldn't get you out of my head. But you're like… _bloody_ Pandora! You wouldn't stay in the box and I had to come home from eight months in Afghanistan to tell my husband that we couldn't be together anymore because I'm gay, and I have been before I even met him!"

The air went out of Bernie, then. Her shoulders sagged; her gaze fixed upon the floor. Serena felt a rush of discomfort at making Bernie relive this: she'd been so focussed on her own journey; she hadn't truly contemplated what it had meant for Bernie. Serena pressed a hand to Bernie's arm. She didn't flinch away. In fact, she leaned closer.

"I'm sorry, Serena."

"Don't be." Serena rubbed Bernie's arm through the fabric of her jacket. "I, rather selfishly, just wanted some closure."

Bernie nodded. "I understand. I suppose I already had that. You were the catalyst to me accepting who I am. After the divorce was finalised – and the kids started talking to me again – everything just felt… _settled._ No need to look back. Although, I have thought about you over the years. Wondering what you were up to; whether what happened had an impact."

"An understatement," Serena said, grinning. "I went to my first Pride three years ago. The partner I mentioned? Her name's Amelia. You _had_ an impact. You…changed everything."

For the first time that day, Serena could read Bernie's expression: joy, pleasure, and just a _hint_ of smugness. It was incredibly attractive. _She_ was incredibly attractive. Bernie took another step closer. "Before, _before,_ I _knew_ I had these feelings but I could write them off, explain them away. And then we _kissed_ and I got scared. Scared at how much I wanted you. Scared at how much I wanted you back when we first met." Bernie fingered the material of Serena's scarf, pulling her closer. "You still scare me."

The winter lights of the walk gave Serena enough light to see Bernie's eyes darken, her lips part. Serena contemplated whether they would be soft or chapped; taste of cigarettes (had she quit in the last seven years?) or just the chocolate from the cocoa. Would it be gentle? Would they give in to seven years of unspent passion and kiss in a darkened corner of the park until their lips went numb with cold? Would Bernie run again? Or would they walk back to Serena's car, like they had the first time, and leave together?

Serena ran her thumb across Bernie's bottom lip, watching with pleasure as her eyes briefly closed. "I've thought about that night a thousand times. Kissing you a thousand times." Serena wasn't scared of the big, bad Wolfe. "When Jason made me book the tickets, a part of me hoped I'd see you again. _Our Christmas tradition._ "

 Two hands slid around Serena's waist, keeping her close. "But there's no mistletoe this time."

"There's some back at my house." Bernie raised an eyebrow, amused. "And an expensive bottle of red. Unless, of course, you'd rather confine this to the Christmas market."

She shook her head. Serena felt Bernie's thumb brush the waistband of her jeans. "Not at all. In fact, I think we should do away with the tradition that we only see each other every seven to ten years, as well."

"I couldn't agree more."

Another couple, gasping at the lights, stole Serena's attention for a single moment. That moment was just long enough for Bernie to slide an arm around Serena's waist, and pull her in for a long, _deep_ kiss. The bark of a nearby tree dug into the back of her legs, but Serena didn't care. She was consumed by a familiar mouth on hers: lips softer than her memories dictated; colder than her fantasies had conjured. Bernie tasted of chocolate and tobacco; her skin cold as Serena caressed her cheek. This time, when Bernie moaned, she did not pull away. Just nibbled on Serena's bottom lip, before leaving kiss after kiss along her neck.

Her scarf was discarded in the dirt. Serena didn't care, not when Bernie's lips closed over her pulse point.

"We should—" Serena groaned as Bernie pressed a feather-light kiss just behind her ear. "We should get out of here. Go back to my place. There's mistletoe and–and wine, and—" Her palm grazed the side of Bernie's breast. Teeth connected with her throat. "Oh _god,_ do you remember that underwear I showed you seven years ago?"

Bernie wrenched herself away from Serena's skin to look at her. "You mean the set that featured in every one of my illicit Sapphic fantasies for seven years? That set?"

Serena clutched at the front of Bernie's scarf. "I'm wearing a similar set now. Let's get into the warm, shall we, soldier?"

Bernie acquiesced, and together they righted coats and scarves and made their way to the nearest exit. After sending their kids a brief text ( _too cold for us; Bernie and I have gone to a pub for a drink_ ), they made their way out of _Winter Wonderland_ and to Serena's car. Seventeen years ago, Bernie had walked her to her car without a word. There had been nothing much to say, then. There was nothing much to say, now, either. Just a lot of things to _do._

Serena didn't know what the future held: perhaps this night would be a singular event, like all their meetings. But she didn't think so. No matter the people in their lives, the connections they forged, she and Bernie kept coming back together. That meant something. Once was an accident, after all. Twice was coincidence. Three times was meant to be.


End file.
